


Before Flowers

by moinonplus



Category: Gintama
Genre: F/F, fwp (fluff without plot)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7419154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moinonplus/pseuds/moinonplus





	Before Flowers

"Sacchan-san", she called in her gentle voice, mockingly so, imitating her ever so proper brother who won't call Sacchan anything else.

"Hmm?"

"They do say that idiots don't catch colds, but if you sleep in a place like that, even you can get one coming your way."

"Then come over here and help me stay warm, Otae-san", replied Sacchan, only half joking.

She started off with a harsh "Sarutobi-san" an eternity ago, gradually making it softer, more casual as they grew to mean something to each other. "Sarutobi" when she was angry, "Sacchan" when she wasn't. Even though everyone else also called her "Sacchan" on her own demand, when it was coming from Otae-san, it had a different sound to it, sweeter, more intimate, in a way. "No matter how much I try to get used to it, the name Ayame just doesn't suit you. I wonder why?", she complained once. "Flowers are beautiful but they wither too fast and bend too easily. You're more of a boar than a flower".

Sacchan is still not sure if she was being complimented or insulted.

On the other hand, Otae-san was always Otae-san.

If one of them is a boar, then the other is a wolf. Sacchan is yet to meet someone who could stand a chance against Otae-san, as well as someone who wouldn't be bewitched by her (after getting close enough). Otae-san was nowhere near a flower. She was more of a retired hunter if anything. And Sacchan couldn't accept it any other way.

She smelled like usual: yuzu which she always leaves to float in her bath water, burnt egg, tobacco and a faint rose perfume. The latter two were persistent and seemed to have absorbed into her, even though she wasn't wearing a cabaret kimono. Her fingers, light as summer winds, brushed through Sacchan's hair slowly, careful not to pull any possible knots. Sacchan had little memory of her own mother, but she was sure that if she ever were to lay in her mother's lap like that, it would feel similar. Being maternal was one of Otae-san's defining traits.

"Say", Otae-san murmured into the air, possibly not too concerned about whether she's being heard or not. "Is tamagoyaki okay for dinner?"

"Only if you add some natto, or, better yet, a lot of natto."

"Don't be silly, you put natto over rice, not over egg."

"I like breaking the rules."

Sacchan grabbed Otae-san's hand, the one that wasn't on her own head, and kissed her palm, then proceeded to kiss each individual finger. These were the hands of the woman who was burning eggs for her. The hands of the woman she loved.

"Otae-san, your hands are really soft, did you know?", Sacchan covered Otae-san's palm with hers and tangled their fingers together.

In a few minutes Otae-san's legs will start hurting, and she will get up and go attempt to carry her threats out (cook dinner). Sacchan will follow her and try to carry out hers (put natto over it). In the end Shinpachi, as it usually happens, will kick them both out of the kitchen and cook something you don't kill people with.

That will happen later. Right now, though, it was only the two of them in the whole universe on the wooden veranda floor. Nothing new.


End file.
